I have seen THE horror
of where the truth
does not exist,
more than the horror of a lost finch
whose heart's candle
smothers
in the alleys of rain,
more than the horror of a gadfly
gushing the jar of my room
with the stings of its buzz,
poking every inch of
these sealed windows and my eardrums
while the death protruding from within,
sealing its life-force,
in death,
more than a calf
in the lobby of a slaughterhouse
or a fawn
in the ring of hyena's fangs,
I have seen THE horror
bigger than the horror of an innocent convict
oaring with all his might
toward his gallows
upon the flood of swears and spits
and the stench of
rotten tomatoes of slurs.
I have seen THE horror
of where the truth
does not exist,
in
your
eyes.
